by Carole Pitt
Harper retreated. Patterson could tell he wanted rid of him. 'Okay, I'll make sure Jade goes to the station voluntarily, it's about time I talked some sense into her. Shock her out of this rebellious shit. She needs shaking up and to be honest with you I've had it with that girl. She's caused me nothing but trouble since the day she was born.'
'I'm sorry to hear that,' Patterson said, thinking if he'd showed her more attention, things might have been better.
'One of these days, I'm going to cut off her allowance and make her get a job. Get her out of my hair for good.'
It was time to drop the bombshell. Patterson took a deep breath. 'I checked our records and you haven't given us a complete statement other than an alibi for Jade and her boyfriend. You say you didn't know Mr Wilson personally, only by association through your daughter. I find it a little difficult to believe you didn't know about her seeing Wilson. You're a well known man and I'm sure someone out there would be happy to tell you. Or perhaps you hired someone to find out.'
Harper started to laugh. 'So now you're saying I must have killed Wilson because some idiot tried blackmailing me.'
'If you look at it from our perspective it's a possibility,' Patterson stated. 'The reason we interview people is to rule them out. Do you remember where you were on Friday May the tenth?'
'I very much doubt it,' Harper answered and turned away to summon the waiter again.
'Your wife might.'
It was then Harper turned nasty. His face had turned puce, and his arm came up threateningly. 'Listen laddie, one word from me and you'll end up pounding the streets. No more promotion. Do you understand what I'm saying?'
Patterson took a step back to avoid a spray of saliva. 'I understand perfectly Sir.'
'I'd bugger off if I was you. I have clients to see. I'll give my statement to the Chief Constable.'
Patterson watched him stagger away. He contemplated waiting outside in case he decided to drive home but it wasn't worth the effort. He could just imagine the repercussions if he breathalyzed him.
He left the restaurant and hurried down the stairs. Once he was outside an idea occurred to him, having the guts to go ahead with it was the only problem.
Liz is right, he thought. Since his injury, he'd played it safe. It was time to toughen up and this was a good opportunity to prove he could.
Harper's money and influence wouldn't help him if the Jade / Wilson affair was accidently leaked to the press, a story guaranteed to tempt any journalist. For him, direct contact with the mainstream media was likely a step too far but they'd sniff this story out eventually. Patterson left the racecourse and headed back to town. He remembered that Will Crosbie hung out in The Retreat wine bar.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jessica Oakley pushed back her hair and rubbed her sleeve across her brow to stop the sweat running into her eyes. Four o' clock in the afternoon and the temperature had peaked at eighty degrees.
'Far too hot,' she grumbled and moved over to the portable air conditioning unit. The laboratory needed a proper system, not this makeshift machine with a hose stuck out the window.
She'd looked through the microscope four times, double checking the result. It had to be correct and that meant she'd missed a crucial piece of evidence. Thank God Grayson hadn't witnessed her mistake or he'd have gone ballistic. For all she found him difficult at times, right now she wished he was here. She pulled off her gloves and pushed open the double doors. Graham, the new lab assistant was lounging across her desk reading a Formula One magazine. 'You wouldn't dare sit on your arse if Grayson was here,' she said.
Graham jumped to his feet and blushed. 'You didn't tell me what to get on with.'
'If you want to keep your job I suggest you use your initiative. There's plenty to do and I'm knackered.'
'I'll make you a coffee if you like,' he offered.
Although Jessica felt furious with herself, taking it out on Graham was unfair. Everyone had to start somewhere and he needed her support not criticism. Her tired brain couldn't even decide whether to have tea or coffee.
'Do you like it strong?' Graham said.
'Go easy on the strength, I don't want palpitations.'
'Right boss,' he said and shuffled off to the cupboard-sized space they used to make drinks.
Jessica flopped down onto a chair and propped her aching feet on another one. She estimated it would take at least three hours to split the sample and prepare the slides. It was imperative she kept one test result in a safe place before handing over the others to a commercial forensic testing laboratory in Bristol. The tests would involve chemical analysis and determining the elemental constituents of the material and matching it to a specific metal. Processing the samples single-handed would take ages. Graham was still relatively inexperienced, but she would have to make use of him. She checked the time. Depending on how they got on, she could send him out for a takeaway.
Her hair was damp and the back of a neck itched from sweating. Jessica opened a drawer, took out a packet of baby wipes and used them on her face, neck and arms. While she waited for Graham, she was tempted to ring Elizabeth. She was about to pick up the phone when she changed her mind, what if her hunch was wrong? Although she was optimistic, preempting the results was unprofessional and tempting fate. Her lack of concentration had caused the problem in the first place, so best not push her luck. In murder investigations scientists were often weighed down by the burden of responsibility. Careless work could lead to catastrophic events, like sending an innocent person to prison, or allowing a guilty one to walk free.
Graham arrived back holding a plastic tray. He set it down in front of her. 'I made a couple of sandwiches to keep us going. If you want me to, I can run down to the Indian place later on.'
Jessica grabbed one and took a bite. He'd obviously listened and wasn't expecting to go home. 'So you're happy to work late.'
'I wasn't doing anything special tonight. My girlfriend dumped me the other day.'
Jessica was glad she was older and wiser. 'Never mind, watching me tear my hair out will cheer you up.'
'Any idea how long this will take?' Graham asked.
Jessica finished chewing and took a swig of coffee. 'Graham, in this business we don't consider time so I don't know.'
'I thought you'd finished with the Wilson case.'
'It's a murder investigation, until the trials over we're never finished. Before we start I'm issuing you a strong warning. No information leaves this lab, either verbal or written. If you blab, you're out of a job. Think back to your mate, he won't work as a technician again.'
Graham looked away as he spoke. 'I wasn't involved. I know the rules. I'm not like that, not even for money.'
'There are people out there determined to pervert the course of justice, remember that. Now, what do you know about paint matching?'
Graham shook his head.
Jessica went to the sink to wash her hands before continuing. 'I'll talk you through it as we go.'
They made their way to the newest lab at the far end of the complex. 'The murder took place in the art department at the school. What I'm uncertain of is whether the killer trashed the place afterwards or someone did it beforehand. Then we find out about this missing mask, which from hearsay is allegedly valuable. I find that ironic, because the students had recently completed a project on masks and had used a variety of different media and paints. So here we have plenty of confusing samples, one in particular arose when blood and red paint merged. Scraping this grunge off the floor didn't help either as tiny bits of the flooring had worn in certain areas. What we ended up with was difficult to separate. In any crime scene, it's easy to assume any red stain is human blood, but in this case it could also be paint. While I was screening samples I identified tiny chips from the floor, but when I went back to them I found this one and it isn't a piece of floor.' Jessica removed a slide
from the microscope.
'And you're not sure what it is,' Graham said.
'I know exactly what it is. It's paint. The problem is I don't know which kind of paint nor do I know where it came from. It's definitely not from any of the emptied cans or the huge selection of acrylics, oils and watercolours used by the students. Just my luck to get a well funded department with plenty of top-quality equipment.
Jessica placed a slide back under the more powerful microscope and pointed. 'We examine each sample and document the chemical comparison. The flow charts can guide us until we find the manufacturer. We only have a single reference sample and we must preserve it.'
They both got to work on the chemical analysis. Jessica explained which method was best to isolate the components used in the binders, pigments and additives. She isolated the silicone, used to make a paint surface more resistant to marking and scratching.
They worked in silence. Jessica was tempted to play music but knew it would distract Graham. With such miniscule amounts to play with she wasn't taking any chances.
Just before ten Jessica peeled off her protective clothing and sighed. 'I'm not too confident about this. It's too complicated, bearing in mind I'm not an expert in this field.'
She opened the top drawer of the filing cabinet and quickly flicked through. 'I'm sending the first sample to GR Austin Forensics in Bristol. Then I need an outfit that specialises in commercial paint analysis. Trouble is, I'm not sure where the nearest one is. I seem to remember there used to be one close to Didcot.'
'Let me look,' Graham suggested. He reached up and removed a box file from a shelf. Within a minute he'd found what he was looking for. 'This is it, and you're right. It's on an industrial site on the outskirts of Didcot.'
Jessica thumbed the pages then checked the time. 'It's too late to ring now. I'll have to contact them first thing in the morning.'
Graham checked the address. 'I'll deliver them if you don't want to drive all that way. Save you two journeys which are in the opposite direction. I can take the slides home with me and set off early tomorrow.'
Jessica shook her head. 'An hour down the M5 is hardly a great distance then straight onto the M4. As for taking the samples, there's absolutely no way.'
Graham started the cleaning up process. 'I'm only trying to help, but if you...'
Jessica was tired and couldn't wait to go home. She interrupted before he started to annoy her again. 'I'm not saying I don't trust you, but I have to deliver these in person. Too much depends on it.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
'How did your meeting with Les Harper go?' Elizabeth asked Patterson who was tucking into tagliatelle.
'He swears blind he didn't know his daughter was shagging Wilson.'
'Be careful Tony. Until Jade Harper admits to having a sexual relationship with Wilson, we can't state it as fact.'
'I called in at the pub on the way back and spoke to the landlord. He confirmed she definitely came in with Wilson. He said they were into each other. His words, not mine.'
'Like I said, we need to hear it from Jade. By the way, Eldridge just phoned to tell me Yeats had to go back to Belfast. He emailed Eldridge last night and didn't come in this morning. He should have contacted me first. My God, the penny's just dropped that I'm now Senior Investigating Officer.'
Patterson grinned. 'We better make the most of it.'
'No senior officer should bugger off without any pre-warning. He must have left straight from home, wherever that might be. After all this time I still haven't a clue where he lives.' Elizabeth said.
Patterson finished chewing a mouthful of pasta. 'No one does. He told us from the start he liked his privacy.'
'Let's hope Belfast wants him back,' Elizabeth said and turned her head. The canteen was filling up. If she didn't get in the queue soon, the tuna bake would sell out.
'We could always try a few prayers. Strange he didn't mention he was going,' Patterson said.
Elizabeth wasn't convinced Yeats had gone anywhere. 'What if he hasn't?'
'Why would he concoct an elaborate lie when he knows we can easily find out?'
'Maybe I should ring the station and ask to speak to him,' Elizabeth suggested.
'That's asking for trouble. Just be glad he's gone.'
Elizabeth grabbed her purse and stood up. 'I'm starving. Do you want seconds?'
'I haven't got any cash.' He glanced down at his empty bowl. 'I put this one on my tab.'
'I'll get it if you make sure nobody nicks my chair.'
On the way into work Elizabeth had decided to cease looking into Yeats' life. It was a stupid idea and she'd risk Patterson's career for her own selfish whims.
'Tony. This business of rifling through his office is a waste of time. We wouldn't find anything incriminating, so let's forget it. I've decided to quit obsessing about him.'
Patterson nodded his head in agreement. 'For once you've arrived at a sensible decision.'
Elizabeth accepted his friendly criticism knowing he was right. 'How did Harper senior react when you told him about his daughter?'
'He's a crap actor. He pretended to be all shocked and upset. He's not stupid and would realise we'd see it as a motive to get rid of Wilson.'
'I can't see him risking everything just because Jade was promiscuous. Why would he care who she had sex with?'
Patterson scraped up the last remnants from his bowl. The noise made Elizabeth flinch. 'Wilson might have tried a spot of blackmail. Maybe this money coming to him had nothing to do with a valuable mask.'
Elizabeth thought Patterson had a good point. Wilson might have made up the mask story to cover himself. 'Right, if Jade doesn't come here voluntarily you'll have to bring her in, but not tonight. Loads of people are staying on for Katie Gardiner's birthday bash. It's in the old conference room and I've promised I'll look in for half an hour. Are you coming?'
Patterson's sounded miserable. 'Eldridge is back in favour. To be honest, I don't fancy watching him swan around trying to impress everybody.'
Elizabeth checked the time. 'I must go and show my face at Katie's little party. Then I'm going out tonight.'
'Where are you off to then?' Patterson asked as he peeled the wrapper off a Mars bar.
'To the cinema with an old friend, it's been planned for ages so I can't cancel. Make sure Eldridge doesn't cause trouble later on. He can be aggressive when he's had a few. Where is he anyway?'
'I believe he's dealing with a couple of yobs who nicked a very expensive car. Don't fret, if he acts up I'll lock him in a cell.'
'Don't forget, with Yeats away I'm responsible for what happens here and petty arguments won't help the situation. So forget the macho talk.'
'Fine, whatever you say,' Patterson grumbled.
'I need you to locate the rest of the student's masks. Jessica Oakley left me a message. 'She wants four more.'
'I thought she'd processed everything from the scene.'
'She only had room for a few at a time because of storage. Papier-mâché is vulnerable to temperature change and she needed to keep an eye on them. What if I send Eldridge over with them and while he's gone you can wish Katie a happy birthday?'
Patterson picked up his plate. 'I need a slice of lemon meringue pie first.'
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sunday May 26th
Plenty had happened since Monday yet Elizabeth felt she was no further forward. Natasha Samuel had kept her promise and emailed several images of what the missing mask could look like. She had also written.
Not knowing the mask's exact age makes it difficult to be precise. However, having researched museum exhibits from the mid eighteenth century to early twentieth century I've narrowed it down. Obviously the older the artifact, the more valuable and on that basis I suggest the earlier exhibits are more representative. However, as with all works of art you
will need a second opinion on authenticity.
Contact me should you need more help.
Since her visit to Sotheby's Elizabeth had read up on Morven's birthplace in the Nass River Valley and printed off the sections she thought the most relevant. She closed her email account and switched off her computer. The A4 sheets were stacked neatly on her desk.
Masks, she'd learned were symbolic and often depicted animals or supernatural beings. These highly elaborate examples accentuated the eyes, allowing the wearer of the mask to see with greater understanding. The eyes, as the windows of the soul had to search for hidden spirits in the material world.
One in particular caught her attention. The expression was melancholy, as if the carver had experienced a great tragedy and the cedar wood had absorbed his grief. For hundreds of years cedar and salmon was the mainstay of the early Nass River Valley settlers who had fought long and hard for the rights to their lands and everything upon it. Elizabeth imagined their struggle reflected in the wooden faces and felt moved by their eternal quest for justice. She stopped reading and thought about her own search for the truth and the complex nature of modern police investigations.
Daly crept back into her consciousness, not that he'd ever left. Occasionally he might have slipped away, but not for long. For Elizabeth to discover more facts about Wilson's murder she needed to see beyond the circumstantial evidence. Wearing a mask was out of the question. However, the shamanic message was simple; use your eyes to find the truth.
Jacob Morven had made his court appearance and as expected pleaded not guilty to all charges. His foreign national status and ample funds resulted in the court granting him bail, with several conditions attached. No trial date was set and his next court appearance was two months away. He gave the undertaking to appear and with his passport revoked, he was free to go. Teresa Lane had successfully argued he posed no danger to the public and bail was set at seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
